Odd man out
by Annmix
Summary: Complemented scene for the last episode of season 3 (3x13). After Finch's call, James is forced to make the most difficult choice in his life. He has no doubt, he knows what his choice will be. But the one thing is to know, the other is to take the last step.


James stoped near the door, turned aroung and gave the last look.

The room was as cold and faceless as the very first day he stepped foot inside. He had nothing to add then and nothing to take with him now. No photos. No sentimental trinkets. No simbolic objects. What for? All that he remembered and all he wanted to forget was always with him, buried deep inside - no curious eyes could ever see or fingers could ever touch.

His never indulge in sentimentality, but for a moment James regretted that the memory of him would not survive in a material things.

He had nothing to leave to Teresa apart of recalls.

May be it's for the best.

Things keep us tied - Teresa needs to be free. Especially today in her happy day.

The lock silently snapped as saying goodbay.

James went out into the corridor, walked along the bookstages. He crossed the room fleeting glance at the couch that kept the memory of their first kiss. And took a step at the wide, full-walled windows. Beyond there was a panorama of large crowded city.

Phoenix had a great chance to finally become his haven.

Become his city.

THEIR city.

He really wanted this. And for a moment - the only one - he believed that it was possible for someone like him.

To have a house.

To have a "clean work".

To have a beloved woman near him.

He believed even knowing that this was just an illusion - from the very beginning. For the whole his live he avoided to live with illusions. Illusions deprive you of the opportunity to see the threat that stands right in front of you. They prevent seeing the world as it is. They interfere with survival.

But they have a capacity to give a flash of light in the cave. Unfortunatly - and James knew it very well - this light never lasts long enough to find a way out.

James closed his eyes for a second.

Through the slightly open door of the terrace, he heard voices and the clinking of glasses. King George proposed a toast to their common victory supported by cheers of a whole team. Pote, King George, Сharger, and even this new one ... Javier and his mats - they are sitting at this table. They are all part of Teresa's new world.

He is not - he was always odd man out.

He gave up everything - that little he had - and was trying to do everything in a right way, but he could not fit - either into her life nor into her heart.

However, when did he manage to fit in somewhere?

Always alone. Uncomfortable. Incomprehensible. Unflappable.

But perfectly able to pretend that everything is going as it should.

He passed a doorway between two bookcases, took metal steps and turned in a new corridor.

It remains to make the last step.

For what?

It's simple.

To protect.

And the same time it's complicated.

He never cared of himself - others always come first. Those who can be stopped. And sometimes those who needed to be helped.

It was a question of duty and loyalty. But it's all in the past - he owed nothing to the others he served.

And what about Teresa?

Who knows! James did not have an answer to this question.

Would it be better if she let him go on the day he was ready to leave?

Or is he grateful to her for a new turn in his existence? For her decision to put in danger her life for him?

So it was a matter of simple gratitude?

That is why - for the gratidute - that now he will come to her to lie again looking in her eyes? And after that disappear from her life, leading away a potential threat?

He could bring dozens of arguments in favor of his decision, but the truth was only one.

He did not just have to. He wanted to do this.

This was the difference.

He really was in loved? At his age and with his "rap sheet"?

If someone dared to hint to him about falling in love a couple of years ago, he would have laughed in his face.

Or hit - depending on the circumstances.

But now ... Even such a freak as Pekas could not miss what was obvious.

He loved Teresa as he never loved any other woman.

He loved everything in her - how she was bowing her head, how she was smiling, and how proudly she was straightening her shoulders. He loved her hair, face, body, lips. Her voice. Her smell. He loved when she was thoughtfully pressing her cheek with her hand, when she was reading something on the screen of the tablet, when she was squeezing a glass of wine with her fingers.

He loved her in evening dress with heels, and in a simple man's cut shirt with jeans and boots. He loved the hard gleam in her eyes when she made a difficult decision - and loved the soft light in them when she thought of something distant and pleasant. He loved her when she came out victorious from the fights and loved when she was wrong. He loved even when she wounded him with sharp needles of unfair words. And when she mixed her intermittent breath with his own in the heat of passion.

He loved her risking and in spite of. And he loved almost openly and without hiding.

Persons around noticed this. And Teresa?

He did not know. He hoped that she did. But may be this was also an illusion - the only one that he did not find the strength to destroy.

As he has broke every other illusion.

He has no opportunities. No future. No more home. He has no money and in fact he has no work.

And he has no right to destroy what she built with such difficulty.

And what he has?

Only the splinters inside - and one desire.

He always wanted to understand how it could be if he would remove the shields and open his soul to a woman. Time and time he was close to do this. But there was a question of loyalty and duty. And there was a fear for her life. And there was also the fear of the price for frankness, which he did not want and was not willing to pay.

Being alone was easier. Life alone was simple times ago.

And now?

If Teresa had asked about his past, he would have told. Not everything, but maybe something - what he could. And he was quite sure that there would not be condemnation, contempt or fear in her eyes.

But she did not ask. And now is unlikely to ask.

Maybe this just wasn't meant to be

James looked at the car keys in his hand. The keys to the house he left on her bedside table. As he left everything else - he took only a pistol and a couple of magazines. Gun is unlikely to be needed, but he was used to have it wherever he goes.

He took several steps, stepping outside and meeting with the watchful eyes of Pote, interrogative glance of Javier and serious looks of others.

His arrival always erased smiles from faces. Wherever he coming.

"This is a seal of the one walking in the darkness" ... His main mentor always had a penchant for pathos and theatricality, although it did not prevent her from being a high-class professional.

A high-class killer.

"If you want to do your job well, you have to love it. Do you love your job, James?" - her predatory voice erupted in memory

He always hated his job.

And he had never mind others opinion about himself.

But not today. Now all that he wanted was to take his place at this table.

"James?" - Teresa turned around, meeting him with a smile.

She was the only one who reserve him a smile.

They could go all the way.

But not in this - in another life.

"Teresa ... Can I have a word with you?"


End file.
